


drown

by lusterrdust



Category: Archie Comics, Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, Sad oneshot, True Love, bughead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:16:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lusterrdust/pseuds/lusterrdust
Summary: "Loss… injustice…unfairness… it’s the ugly truth of life. There doesn’t have to be a reason or a person to blame. Sometimes, misfortune just is." [bughead oneshot]





	drown

**Author's Note:**

> unbeta'd

 

 

> ▱◯♕
> 
> _"There is no greater agony than_  
>  _bearing an untold story inside you.”_  
>  _—Maya Angelou_
> 
> ◯

The room is white, with accents of gold and cobalt.

An ivory bassinet sits in the center of it, the gold-starred mobile Betty had crafted herself hanging above, completely still.

Jughead stares at the array of children’s books lining the new shelves he and Archie had installed a month prior. There’s stacks of pampers in the closet and a corner filled with the large boxes and items from their baby shower they hadn’t yet opened.

He doesn’t wonder why the light is on. Instead, he merely flicks the switch off and wanders down the dark hallway leading to his bedroom, following the sound of running water. A deep frown set in place, he shrugs off his jacket and throws it carelessly onto the unmade bed before pushing the door leading to the bathroom open.

“Betty?”

The first thing he sees is the curve of her spine, her back pressed against the steamed glass of their shower. She’s sitting under the spray of water, ignoring him—or maybe just completely unaware of his presence at all. Her arms are wrapped around her knees and he feels the splintered fragments of his heart shatter in little pieces in witnessing the vacant, lifeless expression of her face.

“Betty?” he tries again, pulling the glass door open, completely uncaring of the water spraying out onto the floor.

But Betty doesn’t move.

She doesn’t even acknowledge him, too lost in whatever dark and cavernous place her thoughts have taken her to.

Jughead toes his shoes off before stepping in the shower and turning the nozzle away from them. His clothes immediately cling to his skin, but he pays them no mind. He sits beside her and forces himself to swallow the urge to cry when her nose turns red, matching the color of her eyes as she turns to blink at him, the despair in her gaze too palpable. So raw is the pain he feels mirrored onto her own face.

He wants to ease her sorrows and chase away the tears. He wants to mend her broken heart, and his as well. He wants to know what to do, because there’s never been a time in his life where he’s felt as lost as he does now.

It’s like someone’s punched him hard in the stomach, but the ache doesn’t leave. Like all the joy and excitement he and Betty have spent the last six months sharing have been ripped out of him with unbearable force. A life they’d pictured for themselves taken away in the matter of moments.

“Jug,” Betty whispers before breaking down, heaving loud sobs that he’s sure the neighbors will give them wary and pitiful looks over the next few days.

Jughead pulls her to him, clenching his eyes shut and cradling her head as if she too will be ripped away at any moment. His fingers tremble as they weave themselves through the wet locks sticking to her neck, and he lets his lips linger at the crown of her head, trying to pour as much support he can give to her without speaking.

He lets her grieve, lets her cry against him like she’d been doing on and off the last few days since returning from the hospital.

“I’m here.” He says quietly with a crack to his voice, repeating the words and stroking any part of her skin his fingers can reach for comfort.

She blames herself, for whatever reason he knows is untrue, but can’t convince her of. Betty, he knows, is used to wearing the burdens of not only her own problems, but those around her, on her shoulders. But the devastation she feels in her own body betraying her and their child… Jughead is clueless at how to convince her this _isn’t_ her fault.

Loss… injustice…unfairness… it’s the ugly truth of life. There doesn’t have to be a reason or a person to blame. Sometimes, misfortune just _is_.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there under the hard sting of water, but eventually he notices the way her fingers prune up, with his as well. Her crying quiets into soft whimpering until he’s sure she’s dehydrated herself into mild sniffling.

Rubbing her shoulder, Jughead cups Betty’s face and angles her head upward. He tilts his down, resting his forehead against her own with eyes closed. Her tremulous breathing tickles his lips as it evens out, and it’s only shortly after that he reaches for the knob to cut the water off. Peeling his clothes off and grabbing the few towels on the rack nearby, he ties one at his waist before draping the other over his wife.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He grabs her hand gently, helping her to her feet as she tugs at the plush towel’s corners and wraps it around herself tightly.

They walk silently into their bedroom before she sits slowly at the edge of the bed, dripping water from her hair onto the sheets and mattress below.

He follows suit, feeling a tightening in his chest when she grabs his hand and moves forward to peck his lips with feathered softness. The gesture itself sparks a bittersweet sort of hope in him, because it’s the first contact she’s initiated in days.

“I’m sorry, Jughead.” Betty chokes out before bringing a hand up to wipe angrily at her eyes.

“Wh—no. No, you don’t apologize.” He shakes his head, bringing his other hand over to enclose hers between his. “Not for this.”

“You’re hurting, too.” She whispers, letting her eyes flicker over his face when he’s robbed of the chance to answer by the lump lodged in his throat. Her face crumples. “It’s my—“

“It’s _not_.” Jughead cuts her off adamantly, finding his voice.  

“I feel—I feel so… empty.” Betty breaks again, gripping onto his hand for dear life and looking up to him with pleading eyes. “Please… be patient with me.”

Jughead exhales sharply and lets his forehead drop onto her own once again, reveling in the intimacy their touch alone creates. He gives her hand a small squeeze before speaking softly. “We’re going to get through this, Betty. I swear to you, we will.”

“…Okay.” She answers after a brief pause in a small voice. Her free hand moves to clench the fabric of his towel in attempt to quell her anxious instinct to dig them in her palm. “I believe you.”

Maybe they’re still underwater… but the surface, it’s not far from view.


End file.
